Chapter Text
The clouds will part overnight, giving way to clear skies tomorrow.
Rick wasn’t expecting “clear skies” to mean bolstering heat. He stopped to wipe his brow after hauling the third bag of feed to the coops. The smack of the fifty-pound sack hitting the ground surprised the hens, scattering them around the fenced area like madwomen.
“Are you hens or are you cuckoos,” he chuckled. Rolling his shoulders, he took a moment to catch his breath. This wasn’t normally so difficult, but it was hot today and he’d woken up on the wrong side of the bed.
A flash of red grabbed his attention, and he looked to the road to PoPoultry. Brandon was passing under the arch and caught his eye. He offered Rick a solemn nod of greeting before approaching him.
“Have you come to see the chickens,” Rick asked. Since he lived with Gotts, he wouldn’t have come to buy one.
Brandon confirmed his suspicions, “I come seeking inspiration for a new art piece.”
Rick couldn’t ever find himself understanding Brandon’s art, but he at least made an attempt at being cordial, “What’s it about?”
“The theme is ‘thoughts from beyond the infinite’,” Brandon seemed to stare past him and at the coops. “I’ve crossed the entire town but have yet to found my muse.”
“Feel free to look around,” Rick grunted as he lifted the bag back over his shoulder. “Just don’t open the gates, and don’t agitate the birds.”
Brandon glanced at him and quietly nodded. The artist was staring at him now, mouth stretched in a tight line and brows scrunched together. Rick waited a moment more for him to say whatever was on his mind, but when Brandon remained silent, he moved on. The last of the feed containers needed to be refilled.
He gasped as he cut open the bag, nearly catching his finger. Thoughts of Brandon were distracting him. What sort of art piece was he trying to make with a theme like otherworldly thoughts? The oppressive heat already made staying on task difficult, but Brandon’s sudden, strange appearance made it hopeless. And, his mind continued to drift as he loaded each of the containers, imagining the red-haired man looming over the chickens with his dour expression and intense aura.
Rick was brought back into focus by a cry from outside. Grabbing the remainder of the bag, he dashed out to calm the frightened hens. Brandon was gripping the wires and staring at the rooster of a coop near the mill: a dark-colored male that Rick had picked up during a fair he’d gone to in another town. He'd won him from a strange farmer dressed like a sprite that quizzed him on a bunch of topics.
“That’s Milky,” he said. “He’s an oddball. Always just seems to be staring out into space, so I named him after the milky way.”
Brandon didn’t answer. Pride swelled in Rick’s chest, glad that Milky had caught Brandon’s interest, “Did you find your inspiration?”
“Not at all-” Rick’s smile fell immediately “-but it does intrigue me. Such murky darkness; bright, intelligent eyes that sparkle like the galaxy; and an impressive, crimson comb…”
Now it made sense, Rick thought. Brandon identified with Milky. They were practically the same being, and Rick found that incredibly amusing. His lips quivered, trying not to laugh, “You can visit him any time you wa-”
“I want to buy him.”
“Excuse me?” Once again, his smile disappeared as Rick was taken aback. His brain swam in the sweltering heat. “You want to what?”
“I want to buy him.” Brandon was serious, looking Rick directly in the eye.
“He’s not for sale!” Rick’s heart nearly stopped.
Brandon sighed, jaw clamping shut and brown eyes staring at the ground. He was disappointed, Rick could tell, but this whole thing was impulsive. Where would he keep the chicken? Did he even have the money to buy it and care for it? Besides, he didn’t even live alone. Would Gotts be okay with a chicken?
“Look,” Rick said, “you can visit Milky whenever you want. But, he’s not for sale.”
“You’re right,” Brandon sighed again. “I’m sorry. I got carried away.”
Rick laughed, “I can understand that. It’s hot out. My head has been mixed up all day.”
What happened next took him completely by surprise. Brandon stepped forward and put his hand on Rick’s forehead, pulling his hair back. The artist’s face was so close to Rick’s he thought they were going to bump foreheads. Rick wanted to say something, but the words died in his chest alongside his breath. And moments later, Brandon moved his hand away, wiping the sweat off onto his pants.
“You are very red, and it’d be a problem if you passed out. You should take a break,” he said.
Rick felt hotter than ever, “You couldn’t tell just by looking?”
“Your hair was in the way.” Brandon frowned, “You’re even redder now. Let’s go inside.”
He reached out for Rick’s arm but Rick stopped him, “No, no I’m okay. I’ll take a break. You can stay with Milky if you want.”
“Actually, I should go,” Brandon said. “Inspiration is out there, waiting for me.”
“You be careful too,” Rick warned him. “Stay hydrated.”
Brandon turned around to face Milky, pressing his face back up against the fence, “I’ll be back, Milky.”
The rooster didn’t even acknowledge him, continuing to stare up at the sky. So much like Brandon, Rick thought again. Then, the artist waved to Rick and left the farm. Once he was gone, Rick squatted close to the ground, hands covering his face in embarrassment. Even Brandon noticed he wasn’t feeling good. Touched his face, too. Wasn’t he supposed to be the dependable one around here?
The door opened behind him. “Rick,” Popuri called out to him, “are you okay?”
Rick quickly stood back up, “I’m fine!” He smiled and waved to her before heading back to the store.
“I made some lemonade,” she said.
“That’s great!” Rick wiped his face again, setting the mostly-empty feed bag by the door, “I was just about to take a break.”